


if there's a reason i'm still alive

by HuiLian



Series: Whumptober 2020 [7]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Gen, Grief, Hurt, Plural, Whumptober 2020, With a promise of comfort in the end, emotionally, hereby i torture damian, mourning loved ones, survivor's guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27048082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HuiLian/pseuds/HuiLian
Summary: Damian looks at the handful of people who made it through to the other side, searching, hoping for a familiar face, even when he knows it’s impossible. But then, things are never impossible in their line of work, are they? He has died and came back to life. Many of his family have died and came back. What’s one more miracle?Richard could have miraculously gotten out of the compound. Jason could have survived in space without any protective gear. Stephanie and Cassandra could have activated their transporter just before their pod exploded. Timothy could have had the time to squeeze into the portal before it closed shut.They could have. Their family has done more impossible things.
Relationships: Cassandra Cain & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Series: Whumptober 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947091
Comments: 51
Kudos: 154
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	if there's a reason i'm still alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ScreamingBean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreamingBean/gifts).



> self control? schedule? who are they?   
> here's day 19! beanie requested survivor's guilt, but i think this fic covers that AND the other two (grief and mourning a loved one). 
> 
> title from hamilton, and yes, i know it's basic, but consider this. IT FITS SO WELL
> 
> hope you like it, beanie!

Damian looks at the handful of people who made it through to the other side, searching, _hoping_ for a familiar face, even when he knows it’s impossible. But then, things are never impossible in their line of work, are they? He has died and came back to life. Many of his family have died and came back. What’s one more miracle?

Richard could have miraculously gotten out of the compound. Jason could have survived in space without any protective gear. Stephanie and Cassandra could have activated their transporter just before their pod exploded. Timothy could have had the time to squeeze into the portal before it closed shut.

They could have. Their family has done more impossible things. 

Richard, Jason, Cassandra, Stephanie, Timothy. Richard, Jason, Cassandra, Stephanie, Timothy. Damian chants their name inside his head, still having hope that they can be here, against all odds, if he wishes it enough.

He sees none of them. 

_No._

Damian closes his eyes, begging to anyone who will listen, even though he is aware that he should know better. Just one. Please. Just let one of them make it, and he would never ask for anything ever again. Never. Just let one of them make it, just let one of them be here with him, any one of them, and Damian will never complain about or wish for anything ever again. 

Just one. Please. Just let one of them survive.

He opens his eyes and looks again, going so far as to activate his mask’s face recognition algorithm, but he _still can’t find_ any of them. Not a sight of an electric blue sweep, shining bright in the darkness. No hint of a red helmet, boldly declaring the owner’s presence. No blonde hair blown up by the wind, nor splotches of yellow in a black suit. No red tunic that he used to hate so much.

It hits him, then. There’s no one. He’s truly alone.

He’s Robin, and he’s alone in the midst of dozens of people, who are all looking at him with frightened faces, the only people left from their earth. 

He’s still Robin, even when there is no Batman, no Nightwing, no Red Hood, no Black Bat, no Batgirl, no Red Robin. 

He’s still Robin, even when he doesn’t know how to be one without anyone else, and so he looks at the terrified expressions aimed at him, all looking at him for directions, and he grits his teeth, schools his expression, and lifts his chin up. 

He’s Robin, and he is going to help them, no matter what he’s feeling right now.

“Follow me,” Damian says, with conviction he doesn’t feel. Follow the protocol for being in an alternate earth. Be calm. Make sure the civilians are alright. 

Be calm. 

Damian starts walking. 

***

_“Are we ready to go?” Tim asks Richard, who is still looking at the glaring, ever-increasing number, counting the number of people who died, and the list of the hero-casualties._

_Father’s name is on that list. So is Superman’s. And Wonder Woman’s. And most of the League’s._

_They have lost, and they are now running, fleeing for their lives. Well, the ones still alive to do so._

_Damian looks at the humongous ship, ready to fly away from this earth in search for another place to live, and imagines that he could see the crowds of people huddled inside. This is it. All that is left of his earth._

_There were other ships and other heroes. Richard had arranged for it all. Then **they** destroyed every single one of their ships except this one, and all the people within it. This is their last chance. Their last saving grace._

_Damian wonders where his mother was when the strike hits, and whether his mother survived it or not. If she had survived it, would she refuse the heroes’ help? Or would she be amongst the scared, traumatized, and tired survivors, who had hope to live for only moments before they were also killed?_

_She is not here, that Damian knows._

_Damian sees Richard takes one last look at the list of names, scrolling through them like he wants to commit it to memory. He had taken charge of the rescue, and now the evacuation attempt, as soon as it was clear that whatever had been left of the League cannot handle the situation anymore. He had called for anyone that was still alive in his entire network of friends and acquaintances, and even rivals, to come help and save what was left of the earth._

_His network of friends brought their own connections, totalling in hundreds of people working to save earth. But it still wasn’t enough._

_They were not enough._

_And so here they are, rounding up the last of earth’s population, hoping to find a place for them somewhere else._

_Richard’s face is calm, but Damian knows his brother. He knows how to **look** , and he sees grief and regret and pain. _

_Most of the names on that list are just that to Damian, names. He doesn’t know them, other than the vaguely familiar names here and there. The source of Damian’s despair is more on the fact that nearly all that was left of his earth was gone._

_(He is letting the fact that Father is dead, and Mother is most likely dead, and that Pennyworth is dead, and that… No. He is letting that fact hover somewhere in his mind, not allowing it to settle, because it is not done yet. They are not done yet. There is still work to be done.)_

_Damian is sure that Richard feels the same sorrow and regret, if not more than what Damian feels, about the fact that earth is as good as dead and that most of humanity is beyond saving. But even if Damian only registers the list as just names in a sea of millions of other names, he knows Richard must have known them dearly._

_Richard must have **loved** them, those names on the list. _

_And so the grief and the sorrow and the guilt is much, much more personal for Richard, because these are the people whom he had asked for help, and they have died for helping him._

_Richard stays looking at the list for a long, long time, almost ignoring Timothy’s question on whether they are ready to go. The longer Richard’s eyes are transfixed at the list, the more worried Damian feels._

_Because what if Richard decides that he should stay here, with the rest of the dead? What if Richard decides that he should die here, like they did?_

_No. Damian had lost enough people today. Earth has lost enough people today. He is not going to allow the best of them to die too._

_Damian opens his mouth, ready to tell all that to Richard, when Richard finally closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. “Yeah, we're ready to go.”_

_Damian had just allowed his heart to settle from the fear that Richard is not going to come with them, when the alarm blares out._

_“What is that?” Richard asks, switching immediately to mission mode._

_“It’s them,” Stephanie says from where she’s watching the camera feeds. “They’re coming here, ‘Wing.”_

_“How long do we have?” Richard says._

_Stephanie looks at him, before shaking her head. “Probably a minute, two. Absolutely not more than three minutes, that’s for sure.”_

_Silence greets their little huddle, with everyone looking at each other. Damian locks eyes with Cassandra when Jason says, “Then we better get moving.”_

_“There’s not going to be enough time,” Richard replies. “You guys go, I’ll hold the fort.”_

_Damian’s heart drops. “Are you not coming?” he exclaims._

_Richard looks at him with those same kind eyes that had made Damian loosen his guard around this man, once upon a time. But there’s something else in those eyes. Something like hunger, like Richard is drinking in every detail of Damian’s face, memorizing them._

_Damian does not like that thought._

_“Not enough time, little D,” Richard says, bringing Damian into his embrace and pressing a quick kiss on Damian’s hair. He presses Damian closer to him for a while, before releasing him while saying, “Now you guys need to go.”_

_“No!” Damian objects, the moment those hands break contact with his shoulders. “You’re coming with us, Richard!”_

_“Dick,” Timothy says, voice as distraught as Damian feels. He doesn’t say anything, just their eldest brother’s name. Somehow, Damian still understands what Timothy means by that._

_He doesn’t want Richard to stay behind too._

_“Go,” Richard says, undeterred. “I’ll hold them off as long as I can. Jay, you’re in charge now.”_

_Jason, standing silently behind Cassandra, doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Richard. The two of them share a second of eye contact before Jason nods, face solemn._

_Damian does not like this. Are they giving up, just like that? They’re supposed to be heroes; they’re supposed to stick together!_

_“Richard, you can’t be serious! We’re not leaving anyone behind, you taught me that!”_

_“Damian,” Richard bends down to look at his eyes, “little D. This is the one time where you do leave someone behind, okay?”_

_“No!” Damian cries out, but his objections remain unheard. He grabs Richard’s arm, trying to get him to come with them, but Richard just maneuvers around him, giving Timothy a quick one-armed hug, Cassandra a kiss on the cheek, Stephanie a squeeze on the shoulder, and Jason a soft smile. Then, he brings his other arm to pull Damian into another hug._

_The hug feels like it lasts for a thousand years and for a mere millisecond at once._

_“Be good, yeah?” Richard whispers into his ear, then releases his embrace. “Go,” he says, addressing everyone. “Take care of each other.”_

_And then, he grabs his escrimas and his explosives and the rest of his gear. He turns around to face them one more time, before he walks out of the door._

_Damian’s feet, that were frozen during the entire exchange, unfreezes themselves and move towards the door, wanting to stop Richard from doing this, to drag him and make him come with them. But before he can get anywhere, leather-clad arms grab him and lift him up._

_Jason’s voice greets his ears. “You’re not going anywhere, twerp.”_

_“Unhand me, Todd!”_

_“No,” Jason says, voice not accepting any protests. “Now come on, time is wasting.”_

_Jason simply repositions his hold on Damian and starts walking, getting several of the civilians still outside the ships to come in. He could have let Damian down, make him walk on his own, but he didn’t. He keeps Damian in his arms, as if Damian weighs nothing._

_Strangely, Damian doesn’t mind too much. The absurdity of the situation certainly distracts him from the reality that that was the last time he is ever going to see Richard._

_Richard stayed behind, in the end, even though it’s not because of the reasons Damian thought. His worst dream has come true._

_Damian buries his head on Jason’s shoulder, wishing he could pretend that it’s Richard._

_He can’t._

_He does it anyway._

***

Robin had done his duty. He had brought all the people from his earth to safety, seeking refuge in this universe’s iteration of the Justice League. 

He didn’t leave anyone behind. He will _never_ leave anyone behind ever again. 

Robin had been a hero, or so they all say. 

That should have made him happy. That had been his goal, after all, a long, long time before, when he first put on the uniform and put the R on his chest. He had wanted to be the best Robin out of all of them, and so be the best hero. 

Right now, Damian doesn’t feel like a hero.

He feels like a failure.

Robin should have been able to persuade Richard to come with them. Robin should have been able to get Jason to escape with them. Robin should have known that Cassandra and Stephanie’s ship is going to get targeted. Robin should have made sure Timothy got out first. 

He doesn’t deserve the name Robin. 

“Robin?” a voice calls out to him. Damian looks up to meet a green domino mask. His heart does a little flip, expecting it to be this universe’s Robin. 

It isn’t. Of course it isn’t. When Damian had briefed this universe’s Justice League about the forces that decimated his earth, they informed him that Batman and everyone affiliated with him are currently unavailable. 

Damian doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or devastated. 

“It _is_ Robin, right?” Green Arrow- who is still Connor Hawke in this universe- asks again. 

Damian wants to say no, wants to refuse the name forever, but he hasn’t actually said his name to this Justice League. He had just said he is Robin and left it at that. They haven’t asked for more information. 

Damian decides that he is relieved that Batman and everyone from the family is not here, because if they _were_ here, they would definitely ask about his identity, question his parentage, demand to know how he became Robin, and make him tell them things he doesn’t want to tell them yet. 

He is quite happy to not tell them his name yet, thank you very much. It will lead to questions after questions after questions. He is, after all, from a version of their future. A horrible future, but a future nonetheless. 

“Yes,” Damian whispers hoarsely. 

“You’re not the Robin I know, are you?” Hawke asks again. 

A thought comes into Damian’s mind. The Robin that Hawke knows is Timothy, he knows that much from what his older brother told him. And that means that this universe’s Damian Wayne has not come into contact with his father yet. 

Maybe he never will. Maybe Damian Wayne doesn’t exist in this universe. 

Maybe that’s how it should be. It definitely would have saved his family a lot of pain. 

“No,” Damian answers, not volunteering any more information. 

“Okay.” Silence, then Hawke says again, “Do you have a place to stay for tonight?”

“I-” Damian begins, but before he can say anything else, a flash of electric blue catches his eye. His words immediately falter. 

It’s not Richard. Not _his_ Richard, at least. This Richard has never given Damian the Robin uniform. This Richard has never spent countless hours staying up with Damian. This Richard has never _loved_ Damian. 

Maybe it is better that way. 

“Robin?” Hawke calls again. “Are you alright?” 

“I... I’m fine, Green Arrow.” Damian swallows, trying to get his bearing again, but before he even comes _close_ to it, a voice calls out. 

“So you’re the Robin from an alternate future.” 

Richard’s voice makes Damian lose any semblance of serenity he had left. It doesn’t matter that this is not his Richard. That voice is the same. 

The kindness is the same. The warmth is the same. The compassion is the same. 

Damian misses Richard. Why didn’t he drag Richard with him? Why didn’t he beg Richard to come with them? Why didn’t he offer to stay behind so that Richard can go? 

Why did he let Richard _die_ for him? 

It should have been Richard here. Everything would have been better if it was Richard who was here and not Damian. Richard would have been better at comforting the survivors, at making them smile even despite everything. Richard would have been better at handling the entire situation with this universe’s Justice League. Richard would have been better at facing this universe’s version of their family. 

Richard would have been better. It should have been him here, alive.

It shouldn’t have been Damian. He doesn’t deserve it.

He abandoned his brother. He’s a failure. A mockery of the name Robin. An insult to everything his family tries to be. 

He doesn’t deserve to live. 

Damian realizes that he still hasn’t answered this Richard’s question. But he just smiles at him, waiting for his answer, exactly like how Damian’s Richard would. 

It makes the knife already stabbing Damian’s heart twist even further. 

“Yes,” Damian finally answers. “I am.”

“Have I known you yet?” Richard asks. 

“Can’t tell you,” Damian says, because he will _not_ be the one who tells Richard about the series of events that lead to him being Batman and making Damian Robin.

It’s bad enough that he subjected his Richard to it. He will not do so to this one as well. 

(Damian knows now how much pain and suffering and anguish Richard felt during his time as Batman. Damian also knows now how much he added to that pain. He will not hurt this Richard like that. Never again.) 

“That’s a no, then.” Richard smiles at him. The sight makes Damian want to throw all caution to the wind and just curl up next to his big brother. To bask in the comfort that his big brother’s presence provides. 

But this is not _his_ big brother. 

“I can’t tell you,” Damian says again, wishing that he can tell Richard everything, but knowing that every word that comes out of his mouth will bring him pain. 

Why wouldn’t it? Damian lives off the pain of others. Everyone who knows him suffers eventually. 

_Dies_ eventually. 

He’s not going to let this Richard die too. 

“Okay,” Richard says, accepting his deflection just like that. “It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me yet. I’m just here to tell you that the Manor is always open for you, Robin.”

“You don’t know me,” Damian chokes out. 

“No,” Richard answers easily. “Not yet. But you’re Robin, and so you’re family.”

Damian closes his eyes and doesn’t dare do anything else. He knows that this Richard hasn’t known him, hasn’t learnt all his tells and habits, but it doesn’t matter. Richard will understand. Any version of Damian’s big brother will always understand him. 

Damian closes his eyes and tries not to let that sentence break him completely. 

“Thank you,” he eventually says. “But no thank you.” He’s not going to come to the Manor. He can’t. 

He is not going to let himself ruin another version of his family. 

Once is enough. 

Once is _more than enough_. 

Richard smiles at him with the same kind smile Damian’s Richard gave just before he left. Just before he died. 

Damian turns around and walks away, ignoring the perplexed Green Arrow and the confused Nightwing. It’s better this way. 

Damian is not going to make another version of his family suffer. 

***

_They managed to leave, flying away from the compound just as it exploded, flames licking around the body of the ship. From where he is, Damian can see the compound turn to ashes, he can imagine the sound of the explosion, and he can almost feel the heat of the flames reaching his face._

_No one could have survived that. And even if they do, they are not going to survive living in the wasteland that Earth has become._

_Damian can feel the truth settling into his bones. Richard is gone, and he is never going to see him again. It makes his mind go slower, his lungs expand smaller, and his body falls apart. It makes him want to curl up and stop, not caring about anything else in the world._

_He doesn’t get the chance to do that, because they are only barely out of Earth’s orbit when Jason, looking out of the windows of the ship, says, “Shit.”_

_That does not bode well. Not at all._

_“What is it?” Damian asks, mind turning on again from the haze he was in. He is already dreading the answer._

_“They’re coming after us,” his older brother says._

_Damian’s heart drops. They are coming after them, and they are going to destroy them._

_After all, this is just a small evacuation ship. What chance would they have, against the same forces that destroyed the Justice League, that killed hundreds of other heroes, that decimated his earth?_

_Against the same forces Richard gave his life and still failed to stop?_

_Not a chance, and all of them knew it._

_“What are we going to do?” Timothy asks._

_Silence, for a while. All of them are waiting for Jason to speak. He’s the eldest now, --the reminder makes Damian’s heart clench--, and in charge, by Richard’s words. Even though none of them ever actually put any weight on that, still, they wait for him to speak. Somehow, the fact that there is still someone else to take charge, to make the impossible decisions, to take the weight of the world on their shoulders, makes Damian feel some semblance of relief._

_(Even if his heart breaks with the reminder that Richard is no longer with them. Because if Richard was here, he would be the one taking charge, not Jason.)_

_Finally, Jason speaks, voice heavy with the weight of hundreds of lives that are hanging on this decision, all that is left of their earth. “All of you are going to take these people in pods and get the hell out of here.”_

_“And you?” Cassandra says._

_Jason looks at her, for once looking as young as his actual age. Damian has never seen him look that young before._

_Damian knows that legally, Jason Todd is only twenty-two years old. Somehow, it has never registered in his mind that that means the Red Hood is also only twenty-two years old, perhaps even younger, considering the time he spent dead. The Red Hood had always seemed to be an imposing figure, as old and as large a figure as he needed to be._

_But Jason Todd is only twenty-two years old, and it is Jason Todd looking out at them now, not the Red Hood. Jason Todd who is a terrified, distressed, absolutely **petrified** , twenty-two year old._

_Surely, twenty-two years old is too young to be making decisions for the entirety of earth’s survivors? But no one else is here to take up the responsibility, and so the weight falls on Jason’s shoulders, no matter how young he is._

_Damian wishes Richard is still here. Richard would have shouldered the burden without even a second thought._

_(But he **did** , and that burden cost him his life.)_

_“I’ll stay in the ship,” Jason says, voice calm even as his face looks terrified. “Be bait. Throw them off our scent. Give you guys and the rest of them a chance to survive.”_

_“No,” Stephanie says. “You’re not doing that, Jason. We’re in this, and we’re in this together.”_

_“What else are we supposed to do?” Jason shouts, then belatedly realizes that everyone in the ship is now looking at him. He closes his mouth, gives a forced smile to the civilians surrounding them, and turns back to them. “What else are we supposed to do?” he hisses._

_That’s the problem, isn’t it? There is absolutely nothing else they could have done. Damian can’t force Jason to come with them, because their close escape from the compound didn’t leave them unscathed; their navigation system is fried and useless. Someone had to pilot the ship manually at all times, and so for this to work, **someone** would have to stay behind._

_This is like the situation with Richard all over again. Someone staying behind to give the rest of them a chance to survive._

_But maybe… Maybe Jason doesn’t have to do it alone. It’s what Richard would have done, had he been here._

_“I’m staying with you,” Damian says._

_“Like hell you are,” Jason exclaims immediately. “You’re going in there first.”_

_“What?” No, no, that couldn’t have been right. Why on earth would Jason want him to be in the rescue pods first? It doesn’t make sense. “What are you talking about?”_

_“I’m saying that you’re going in that pod first if I have to throw you in there myself, Damian,” Jason says. Damian’s face must have looked absolutely confused, because Jason sighs, kneels down (kneels down!), and grabs his shoulders. “You know that’s what Dick would want.”_

_Damian frowns, mouth already open to protest, because how dare Jason bring up Richard, when Cassandra chimes in, “He’s right, little brother. You’re going in there first, and that’s not up for discussion.”_

_“What?”_

_“Dick would kill us if we let you stay here,” Timothy adds. That’s probably true, but Damian is not going to give up without a fight._

_He’s not going to let another member of his family die._

_“That’s what he would have done!” Damian says. And it’s true. That is what Richard would have done, if he is here._

_Damian had been angry at him for doing just that enough times to say that with conviction._

_“Yeah, little D,” Stephanie says, face perplexingly kind, the same kind of face she wears when comforting a victim. But Damian is not a victim. He knows what the consequences are, and he is making them with eyes wide open. “That’s what he would have done,” she continues. “But that’s not what he would have wanted for you.”_

_“I...” Damian starts, but he doesn’t know what to say. Mentally, he’s damning Stephanie for knowing exactly what to say. Damning Timothy for caring, now of all times he could have done that. Damning Cassandra for backing Jason up._

_Damning Jason, because even if he will never admit it, Damian does not want him to die._

_“Trust me, kid,” Jason says, giving Damian a rueful smile, “he would have said the same thing. Now get the pod ready, and get in.”_

_“But-” Damian tries again_

_“No. I’m in charge, so you’re going to listen to me. Get going, Robin. That’s an order.”_

_“I-” Damian splutters, but Stephanie pulls him away from them and towards the pods, calling for the civilians to come with them._

_Damian glares at her, wanting to continue the argument, but he can’t, because despite it all, he’s still Robin, and Robin doesn’t argue with Batgirl about who is staying behind in front of all the scared, most likely traumatized civilians._

_Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to, though._

_As he walks, he sees Timothy give Jason a nod before going to the computers, taking two small devices from it, and he hears snippets of conversation between Cassandra and Jason._

“I can… you don’t need to…”

“...done it already… shouldn’t let… fine…”

“…brother… proud..."

“...other side…”

_He sees Cassandra rise up to her toes and plants a kiss on Jason’s cheek. Her own cheeks glimmer underneath the fluorescent lighting of the ship, bellying the fact that they are wet. Somehow, the sight makes Damian fight to keep a handle on his own tears._

_Damian knows death. Knows it intimately. Knows that it is inevitable. He couldn’t have survived the streets of Gotham, much less his childhood, without knowing that._

_But still, he clenches Stephanie’s hand, and whispers, “He’s not going to make it, is he?”_

_Stephanie clenches his hand back. “No, Damian,” she says, voice wet with the effort of holding back her own tears. “He’s not.”_

***

Damian ends up in a small, one-bedroom apartment, one of many that this universe JLA provided for all the survivors of his earth. They are all, understandably, concerned about him living alone, but since he doesn’t want to stay with this universe Batman and he refuses the offer to stay with anyone else, they really do not have a choice. 

Besides, it’s temporary anyway. If Damian knows his Father, and he does, despite this being another version of him, he will not leave him alone for long. 

The League will not leave him alone for long. 

But they left him alone for now, in an apartment that feels larger than life, despite it not being actually that large, because he is alone. There is no Timothy to squabble with, no Cassandra to share his findings with, no Stephanie to tease, no Jason to argue with, no Richard to grumble to, no Father to annoy, and no Alfred to complain to. He is alone. 

He is well and truly alone.

Damian _asked_ to be alone. He specifically asked the Justice League to leave him alone. He hides from this version of his family, not wanting to forget his own but at the very same time craving the companionship that his family will give him. 

Even when this version of his family hasn’t known him. Even when they probably do not _want_ to know him, not after they find out that Damian left their counterparts to die. 

He deserves to be alone. 

But right now, with the seemingly endless dark room, and the seemingly all-encompassing silence, Damian just wants someone to hold him. He closes his eyes, trying to fool himself that the room is dark and silent and lonely because he wishes it to be so and not because he is truly, really, absolutely alone. 

It doesn’t work. The darkness seems to stretch further and further. The silence seems to enter into every crevice of his body. 

Damian can’t take it anymore. Damian puts his hands on his ears, thumping them slightly to make a sound, _any sound_ , to stave off the silence. He presses his eyes closed, forcing himself to see something other than darkness. 

Something. _Anything_. 

His mind complied. But the image it pulls up is the glimmer of tears on Cassandra’s cheek; it is Timothy’s clinical movement as he forces himself to move; it is the determined yet scared face of Jason, facing death for the second time, yet still keeping his head held up high and proud. 

The thumping stopped. But there’s something else. 

Voices, rough with the effort to hold back tears. Pleas, full with grief and misery. Reassurances, even when the one giving the reassurance is doubting themselves. Cries that come again and again and again.

Damian doesn’t remember the cries. 

Oh. 

It’s _his_ cries. _He_ is crying. 

The silence never seems as expansive as it did just then, with only the echoes of his own cries and the memories of the last words he ever heard his older brother say reaching his ears.

***

_Jason didn’t make it. They watched the ship zoom past them as they were turning on the cloaking technology on their pods. They watched the forces that followed them out of earth follow Jason’s trail, leaving the two pods to travel to safety._

_Jason didn’t make it._

_Damian looks to Timothy, wondering what they are going to do now. Timothy looks back at him, probably also wondering the same thing._

_Then, their comms crackle and Cassandra’s voice comes out. “Tim? Damian? Do you copy?”_

_Right. Cassandra is the eldest now. In the span of less than twenty-four hours, they have gone through two eldest siblings._

_Damian almost doesn’t want to believe it._

_“Yeah, Cass,” Timothy answers. “We copy.”_

_“Okay,” Cassandra says. “Everything alright on your end?”_

_“Yeah,” Timothy says, fiddling with the controller on the pods. “Cloaking is still going strong, fuel should last until we reach the Linsnar system, and the emergency transporter is on and ready to go. What about your end, Cass?”_

_“It’s the same here, Tim,” Stephanie answers. “Cloaking good, fuel good, and emergency transporter is good to go.”_

_“Okay,” Timothy says. “Remember the emergency transporter is for absolute emergencies only, because I do not know where we would end up if we use it.”_

_“Copy that, Tim,” Stephanie says. “Just checking the coordinates one more time. We’re going to-”_

_Stephanie’s voice is interrupted by a crash, loud enough to be heard even through the comms.. Damian and Tim look at each other before the two of them rush to the window, trying to see what is happening._

_“Steph!” Tim cries out. “Steph! Cass! Answer me!”_

_Static noise responds back, adding to the panic they are in. Then, from the darkness of space, where previously they could see nothing there, an explosion bursts through and they see Stephanie and Cassandra’s pod materializing before their eyes. They were hit, and their cloaking mechanism no longer worked._

_They were hit._

_How could they have been hit?_

_“I thought their cloaking is on, Timothy,” Damian breathes out, eyes transfixed to the glaringly obvious pod in the nothingness of space._

_“It is,” Timothy replies. “It must have been a random strike. A **lucky** strike. The cloaking tech is immaculate.” _

_“What…” Damian is almost afraid to say it. “What's going to happen now?” he asks, eyes still frozen on the visible pod._

_But before Timothy can answer, something else happened. Damian is still looking out at Stephanie and Cassandra’s pod, and so that is why, when the beam hits, Damian is treated to a very clear, almost slow-motion view of their pod disintegrating._

_A scream reverbs inside his ears. Who is screaming?_

_Oh. It’s him._

_Damian doesn’t even register the fact that he’s screaming, head still trying to process the fact that they are gone. They’re gone, disintegrated right before his very eyes._

_Stephanie and Cassandra are gone._

_In the span of twenty-four hours, they have gone through four eldest siblings. Tim is the eldest now, if that word even carries any more meaning now that it’s just the two of them left._

_It’s just the two of them left. It’s just Tim and Damian left._

_It’s just the two of them left._

***

Damian looks at the doors of the bus. He can do this. He's Robin. He can get inside a bus. 

But he's not Robin anymore, is he? 

No. He can do this. If he can't even step foot inside a bus, if he can't even do this absolutely mundane thing, then what was the point of it all? 

What was the point of everyone's sacrifices? 

Damian takes a deep breath, trying to force his feet to move, but before he can lift his foot, someone behind him calls, "Are you going in or not, kid?"

Damian turns around, apologies already on his lips, when he sees the long, flowing, blonde hair. 

He stops dead. 

It can’t be her, can it? She died in the explosion. She died with her best friend, his sister, by her side. 

Stephanie died by a chance shot, and Damian will never see her again. Not _his_ Stephanie, anyway. Not the one who brought him to a bouncy castle, not the one who stole his ice cream, not the one who would tease him relentlessly. 

“Kid? Hey, kid. Are you okay?” the woman asks again. Damian looks at her, now. It’s not Stephanie. 

Not his Stephanie, and not this universe’s Stephanie either. 

Damian almost feels disappointed. 

“I…” Damian swallows and says, “Yes. I’m going in. Sorry for the delay.”

“It’s okay,” she says, smiling down at him. She doesn’t really look like Stephanie, but Damian sees Stephanie’s smile superimposed on top of hers anyway. “I have a little brother who does that zoning out thing all the time.” She shakes her head slightly, giving out a small laugh. “Where are you going?” 

“Gotham,” Damian blurts out, uncharacteristically honest, still out of balance from the memory of Stephanie’s smile. 

He knows that this universe's version of his Father is going to search for him, and he doesn't want him to come unannounced to his place. No. Better for him to go to Gotham first, to get the lay of the land first.

(Even though he really, _really_ doesn't want to. But Batman searching for him is inevitable, and Damian is not in the habit of trying to deny the inevitable. 

Well. Not anymore.)

“Uff,” she says, “what are you doing in Gotham? There’s nothing good there.”

“Oi!” someone calls from somewhere behind the line. “You kids going in or not? We don’t have all day!”

“Yeah, yeah, cool your horses, man!” she replies, before turning to Damian and saying, “But he’s right. Come on, we need to get in.” She takes Damian’s hand and steps into the bus, pulling Damian with her. 

Damian could have fought her off. But he finds that he doesn’t want to. Maybe it's the memory of Stephanie from before, also doing the same thing to him, that stops him from resisting. 

Damian lets her grab his arm and pull him inside the bus. 

Two women, with a child between them. A burly man sitting next to a teenager. Someone in an ill-fitting suit. 

A wisp of black, shoulder-length hair, with eyes that seem to look into your soul. 

No. No, no, no. 

It’s not her. It’s not her. It’s not his sister. 

Damian turns around, trying to stop himself from seeing Cassandra overlapping the girl sitting just seats away from him. It’s not his sister. It’s not the woman who would laugh without laughing, it’s not the woman who would look at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, it’s not the woman who would bop him in the nose whenever she feels like it. 

It’s not his sister. Damian will never see his sister again. 

He turns around, only to see the long, blonde hair he mistook for Stephanie’s earlier again. 

No. They are not here. They are not here. 

But they were, before. They were in a pod, and they were hit. 

What if this bus is hit too? 

“Kid?” the woman with the blonde hair asks him, concern in her voice. “Are you okay? You’re hyperventilating.”

Damian doesn’t even realize he’s hyperventilating until she tells him so. 

“I…” Damian tries, but he can’t get the words out. “I…,” he tries again, and fails again. 

Damian gasps in a breath, trying to get his lungs and his heart and his voice back in control. “I’m sorry,” he finally says, before running out of the bus. 

He can’t do it. 

Gotham will have to wait.

***

_Timothy turns the transporter on, gesturing for the civilians to move, then turns around and says to Damian, “Get in.”_

_“What?! No!” Damian protests. “I’m staying here with you.”_

_Timothy grabs Damian’s shoulders and says again, “Get **in** there, you little brat.” _

_Damian flicks the hand on his shoulders away. It doesn’t move, in a surprising amount of strength from Timothy. He tries again, before moving tactics and says, “No! I’m staying here with you until all the civilians are out!”_

_“Damian, for once in your life, **listen** -” Timothy shakes him with the word “- **to** -” he shakes him again “- **me**. Get in.”_

_“No!” What kind of monster does Timothy think he is? He’s not going to just abandon the civilians still here, much less his brother. Because that’s what Timothy is, even with all of Damian’s protest otherwise._

_His brother._

_“Listen to me, you little twerp. I need someone on the other side to help the civilians already there.”_

_“Then get someone else!” Damian protests. He’s not leaving. He’s not._

_“There is **no one else** , Damian. Get in there!” _

_“ **Tim** ,” Damian says, calling his brother with the shortened, familiar version of his first name for the first time in the years since he’s known him, “I’m not going anywhere. We’re going there together or not at all.”_

_Damian sees Tim take a deep breath before saying, in a voice that betrays his calm expression, “Damian.” The grip on Damian’s shoulder tightens even more. “You need to go. Please.”_

_“No! I-”_

_“Help the civilians,” Tim cuts in. “You’re Robin, remember? We took an oath to help them.”_

_Damn him. Damn him to the deepest parts of hell. Why did he have to remind Damian of that?_

_“Now fulfill that oath, Damian,” Tim continues, uncaring of Damian’s hate-filled glare. “Be Robin.”_

_“I **hate** you,” Damian spits out, holding back tears. He knows exactly what Tim is doing. Why else would Tim insist on him getting in first? If he needs someone on the other side, he could have easily told Damian to hold down this end and climb in himself. _

_He knows Tim is trying to spare him, trying to get him to live. But Damian can’t argue with the order to save the civilians. He can’t argue with the order to be **Robin**. _

_So the only thing he does is spits out the same, tired sentence he has said to the man in front of him hundreds, if not thousands of times before, and hoping that his brother understands what he actually means._

_Tim bites his lips, mouth moving as if to say something, before abandoning it to put his hand on Damian’s head. “I know,” he says, eyes telling Damian that he understood exactly what Damian meant, and it’s not what Damian actually said. “Now go, little brother.”_

_Damian breathes out heavily, in an effort to keep the tears from going down. He nods and walks to the edge of the transporter, helping someone climb in. Then, he looks back and meets Tim’s eyes._

_He refuses to believe that this is the last time he will see Tim again. He has lost too much today. He refuses to lose Timothy on top of it._

_“You’re stepping into this transporter as soon as possible, do you hear me, Timothy?” Damian demands._

_“I promise,” Tim says, holding the eye contact. “Now go.”_

_Damian searches Tim’s eyes, looking for any kind of deceit, but he doesn’t find any. Damian takes one last look at his brother, the only one left, and steps into the portal._

_He believes that Timothy will follow him, as soon as possible. The question is, will as soon as possible be enough?_

***

He eventually managed to go to Gotham. Or, more precisely, he eventually managed to go as far as Bristol, getting into the Manor's grounds. 

He sits on top of a tree that hasn’t grown his favourite branch yet, might _never_ grow his favourite branch, and observes his, but not really his, family. 

It’s not his. They are not _his_ family. 

But they look so, so much like them. 

Damian knows that this universe is several years behind his own, and he, theoretically, knows what that entails. Jason has not returned to Gotham yet, Richard is operating out in Bludhaven, Stephanie is still figuring out her place as a hero, Cassandra is still learning how to be a person instead of a weapon, Timothy is still Robin, and the only one besides Alfred who regularly goes to the Manor. 

But he really is not prepared to actually _see_ it. 

He sits on the branch that is not his favorite and watches as Timothy does the drills that he would continue to do well after he stopped being Robin. Laps around the Manor, then several calisthenics routine, and then a few more laps around the Manor. Damian has watched him do this routine countless times. 

But never this young. Never as Robin. 

Damian watches Timothy’s red, panting face, and remembers the hands on his shoulders, pushing him towards the transporter. He watches Timothy’s mouth moving, and hears the words his brother spoke to him. 

_Be Robin_. 

How is he going to be Robin, when Timothy is still Robin here? He is redundant. 

Useless. 

From the Manor, Damian can see his father coming out to meet Timothy. No, not _his_ Father. 

Bruce, then. 

Damian sees Bruce walk out to the grounds and feels himself retracting further into the shadows of the tree. He is not ready to meet them. He is not ready for them to see him. Managing to get to the Manor is enough for the day. 

When is he going to tell them? He can’t hide forever, can he?

Maybe he can. After all, Captain Marvel operated for many years without the League being the wiser. He could ask Billy Batson for advice. 

Damian sighs internally. Who is he kidding? The moment he gets into contact with Captain Marvel, his cover, if that is what this hiding can be called, will be blown. He’s _not_ going to get into contact with Captain Marvel. 

Beneath him and several feet to the right, Damian can _feel_ Bruce and Timothy talking together, exchanging words and ideas. It is so very much like Damian’s first few encounters with them that he is transported back several years and many, many heartbreaks ago, when his Father basically ignored him in favor of Timothy. 

He hated Timothy then.

How much he wishes he could go back. 

Damian watches as Timothy walks into the Manor with Bruce, face clear and still strangely innocent. A very far cry from the Timothy Damian had met years ago. 

A very far cry than the Timothy who had told Damian to listen to him and leave. 

Damian had never listened to Timothy before. Why did he choose to listen to him then, at the worst possible moment?

He looks at Timothy’s face, clear of the worry _his_ Timothy carried all the time from the moment Damian met him, and something clicks in his brain. 

Oh. That’s why he was spared.

He can spare them the pain. He can spare Timothy the grief of losing his best friends and his father, he can spare Stephanie the grief of dying and being brought back feeling _wrong_ , he can spare Cassandra her abduction. 

Damian can spare Richard the pain and the grief and the _burden_ of having to take care of him. 

He can spare this universe’s Damian Wayne from growing up to be like _him_. 

Damian waits until Timothy and Bruce have entered the Manor, and starts to climb down the tree. 

Be good, Richard had told him the very last time he saw him. Be Robin, Timothy had ordered him before he pushed Damian into the transporter. 

Take care of each other. 

Well, none of _his_ family is left for Damian to take care of, so he will just have to take care of this universe’s Damian Wayne’s family. He can take care of this Damian Wayne. 

Damian feels the Wayne Manor grounds meets his feet and he walks away, careful not to trip any of the abundant alarms. He still has some time to plan, and he doesn’t want to just come up to the door and tell them about it all. 

He has to make sure they are ready. He has to make sure _he_ is ready.

***

Damian stands in front of the Manor door, feeling a sense of deja-vu. He has done this before. He has stood in front of his father’s house, preparing himself to knock, oblivious to the reception that he would get the moment the door opens. 

This universe’s Damian Wayne will never know the feeling. If Damian knows his Father, and he does, even though this is not truly _his_ Father, he will go and find this universe’s Damian Wayne as soon as he knows that he existed. 

That Damian Wayne would have been five, six years old. He would grow up to be a completely different person. 

He would grow up to be a _better_ person. How could he not?

Damian knows that the moment he rings the doorbell for the Manor, everything will change. He could still go back. He could still turn around and pretend this never happened. There is no trace of him here. No alarms tripped, no footage of him, and no hint of him ever being here. 

He could go back to pretending he doesn’t exist. 

But he can’t do that. Not when everyone had given up their lives for him.

This is the reason he is alive when everyone else has died. So he can bring his knowledge to his family, and so he can make sure that this universe’s Damian Wayne will never become like him. 

That Damian Wayne will never do the Year of Blood. That Damian Wayne will never know the struggles of fighting his mother every year for a hint of his father’s identity. That Damian Wayne will grow up cared for and happy and _loved_. 

Damian is here to make sure that the Damian Wayne in this universe will never grow up to be like him. 

He takes a deep breath, and presses the doorbell. 

Alfred opens the door, much like Damian had predicted. Damian also knows that he has his shotgun within reach, as like his Alfred does everytime he opens the door for an unfamiliar face.

“Can I help you, young sir?” Alfred asks, voice as polite as ever, but still full of threats. 

Damian looks at him, at the face that he misses so but knows is not really the same. His lips turn up into a small smile, and he says, as evenly as possible, “My name is Damian Wayne. It’s good to see you, Alfred.” 

He knows he won’t get away with just saying that. He knows that there will be hours upon hours of explanations and answers demanded of him. He knows his father, and he knows his family. 

But it’s a start. 

It’s a start. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks to [ Soph ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamint) who betaed this fic and shows me the plot holes! and thank you to the Batfam 18+ discord who enabled me to write this 8k monster of a fic when I expected 2k, AT MOST. 
> 
> and thank you for reading this! give a kudos or comment on your way out, maybe??? 
> 
> also, if you want, check out my tumblr for more of batfam nonsense! (huilian.tumblr.com)


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